Voyage
by Elise H. M
Summary: Go past the fog in Sunuva Cove; you will see death masked as beauty. A mermaid will sing to enchant, uttering such dulcet and harmonious sounds, but retain her mysterious air. When men come, mermaids sing. All men are led straight to their doom…But one.
1. Prologue: Marked by Midnight

_Hello my lovelies! I know it took me a hell of a long time to write or update or anything. For that I apologize sincerely. This is a story that I wrote after I saw this great pirate themed movie on a late Tuesday night and ended up dreaming of this story. You can check out the banner for this story on my profile. I'd like to thank my wondrous beta, Mackenzie L. for putting up with my horrendous first drafts. Happy reading!_

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><p><em><strong>1750 - London, England<strong>_

_**The Slums of East end, on an Eastern Bay**_

_**~Prologue~**_

_o__**O**__o_

The naked London streets held an eerie almost ominous feeling along the wet cobblestone streets. You did not want to be here but you refused to be intimidated by the foggy environment. The air was very still and stifling, and it smelled like death and decay in the slums of London. The onyx night was ready for anything while the twinkling stars shuddered in fear and hid behind the mist that blanketed the sky. The brisk air was thick with musk and filth; it abraded the very moisture from your face, making your lips chapped and cracked.

Your tongue grazed them quickly as you shoved your hands in your overstuffed pockets of aligned fur. You walked faster, only ignoring the mice who whispered mischievously and the owls hooting above your hurried strides. The leather strap of your new makeshift invention of a miniature telescope bounced with every step you took towards the Sunuva Cove.

"That bloody cow, left me here by myself. Why I 'otta..." you grumbled under your breath. Apparently so, your lad in crime seemed to have thought otherwise of your plan. You breathed through your nose angrily and stopped mid-inhale. The air smelled so foul, regurgitating seemed like the finest idea for relief.

Taking small breaths at a time, you focused ahead, your leather gloves tightening on your clammy skin as you clenched and unclenched your hands from apprehension. This was the opportunity that you've been waiting for. But getting too close, being at the wrong place at the wrong time - all of those things can put you in mere danger - but as a child you've wanted to actually see one. You would do everything in your power to do it. Your eyes teared up from the ghastly smell hovering around your face like a toxic halo. Your head dipped further into your petticoat and you ducked and walked faster. The clock tower chimed ten minutes after three. Sunrise would be soon.

You stopped in front of an old sign. It smelled of musky sea water, fish, and another God-awful stench you can only identify as urine. Wrinkling your nose in disgust, you focused on the thin writing scrawled across the wide wooded plank:

_Never venture past the fog, for then you will see death masked as beauty. "But what beauty?" patrons may ask when they read this; heed this appraisal:_

_**WARNING**_

_Mermaids will sing to people to enchant them, distracting them from their work and causing people to walk off a ship's deck or to run their ship aground. Does not the idea of mermaids squeezing the life out of drowning men alarm thee? When sailors come, the mermaids sing, and some men are led straight to their doom. If you follow the mermaids' lovely and beautiful voices in the Sunuva Cove , you will be in for the same fate.. Thou hast been warned..._

The words are heavily smeared and almost unintelligible. At the apex of the very damp board, the big bold letters reading WARNING in capitals. At least the most important part was pointed out. It was legible enough for those to understand the meaning and go the opposite direction back to their mum's house to bed.

Abstaining from this allegedly deathly cove made you reconsider your plans. You'd heard the stories; you sometimes hallucinated and thought you'd heard the bloody screams. Well, with the awful smell floating around here, no one would blame you. You heed this warning and stay away. So performing a misdeed in the stark early 3 o'clock morning with a whiff of the acrid air only let you stay put and stare from afar. Yes, that was the plan.

Deciding to stay where you are, put away you of the fear of a possible drowned death. "Not tonight, buddy," you whispered. as you raised the telescope to your face. The view from here would suffice, even though the view from the dock next to the lighthouse would have been more pleasant. Just the mist creeping about the sandy shore and a few jagged rocks were visible through the smoky early morning. Shuffling and grumbling were audible from a hobo that foolishly wandered around drunk at this time.

You rolled your eyes at his obliviousness and continued to scope out what you've been anticipating for weeks at a time. The air seemed to strengthen at a chill. Banks of water with sea foam thick as chocolate pudding merged through every nook and cranny of the rocks. But through the foam of more shallow waters, there was a something that bulged and bobbed as though alive underneath, waiting...

You adjusted the telescope and look through, seeing miles away towards the dock. There you sawtwo shadows, both obviously masculine. They were both looking at something. You zoom closer with another twist of a knob and groan at the sight. There, yelling just out of reach of the fog were drunk sailors and a good-time afloat on the abyssal waters, wailing out a cheery tune of some rubbish about themselves being pirates. Such a cheery tune shouldn't have been sung at such an unfortunate time.

"So why are there tears in your eyes?" Your companion would have asked if that little ninny had not backed out at the last minute. It spoke for itself. The sight before you brought tears to your eyes. A splash was heard from your right and you whipped your eyes just in time as a small flicker of motion steered your view. The bobbing thing was gone. The shape of a tail flicked upwards and sunk beneath your sight; it was then you knew. You left a silent prayer with them and watched on to the wake of doom.

…

_"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me- hee hee!_

_We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot_

_Drink up me hearties, yo ho_

_We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot_

_Drink up me hearties, yo ho_

_Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me"_

The men's jolly singing was out of tune and ripe. They bumped into one another, slung eachother's arms onto each other's shoulders lazily.

_"We extort, we pilfer, we filch and sack_

_Drink up me hearties, yo ho-ho-hooo!_

_Maraud and embezzle and even high-jack_

_Drink up me hearties yo ho_

_Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me-hee hee!"_

Their bottles clanked together in a toast, echoing all through the sky. They grinned at one another and kept the tune going.

_"We kindle and char, inflame and ignite_

_Drink up me hearties, yo ho_

_We burn up the city, we're really a fright_

_Drink up me hearties, yo ho_

_We're rascals, scoundrels, villains, and knaves_

_Drink up me hearties, yo ho, ho ho!"_

_"We're devils and black sheep, really bad eggs_

_Drink up me hearties, yo ho"_

_"Gonna play some hanky-panky with a mermaid fellas!"_

A young man about the age of twenty shouted, taking another swig from his Jerry bottle. He placed the bottom of the bottle to his manhood and thrusted his hips.

_"Oh scurvy pirate's, life for me ha ha ho ho!_

_Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!"_

Carlisle gazed down the dock to the small boat that held the "scum drunks" that slurred out of tune as the dark waters swallowed them. The glint of the moonlight ricocheted off of the whiskey bottles that were being swayed in their hands. The savage men laughed and hooted as they flowed freely through the intimidating waters. Their intoxication of alcohol led their sanity away with the winds of the night.

Nights such as this one - dark, feeble and menacing - always led Carlisle to believe that a frenzy was arising. Mermaids were coaxing men from their ships to the belly of the beast. Vampires were sucking the life out of those who would succumb to their charms. Carlisle's father would take him here, to old Sunuva Cove, to watch the nasty sailors as they would sail blindly to their death. Singing would always alert the vixens that their dinner will soon be served. London was becoming a place for the supernatural creatures to come out and pry on vulnerable humans. Humans fell for it, and that was exactly why people were disappearing so suddenly.

The smell of their party favors sailed around Carlisle nose. He was never one for alcohol...so he assumed. He'd never had scotch, whiskey or rum; he was Christian, and he would never go against his father's orders. Having the slight buzz of rum in his veins would make his body go through a change in which his faith will be nothing to him.

The riding crop against his flesh never failed to train his mind to be obedient. He was twenty-three now and still cowered against his father's disapproving look. He could picture it now. His fathers eyes darker then the darkest cave nestled in the most condescending black forest. His light eyebrows furrowed together like the 'V' in adversity.

His demeanor would change in a millisecond. Carlisle could always tell. He knew he would've gotten the look if he questioned his father about what they were doing there, but the air that surrounded him was intoxicated with the essence of the influence that lingered from the bashful, oblivious sailors who were out on the deathly waters. Just a breath suddenly put Carlisle under as well.

"Why are we here, father? You've heard about the men that last went past the foggy mist, they're-"

"Down below son. Where they belong. They've brought it amongst themselves to die the way they have. For they have not accepted God into their hearts. He is our Savior. They've ended their own lives. Let them."

Carlisle couldn't believe his father's hatred towards those in dire need of saving. He didn't think anyone deserved to be on death row. "But Father, I don't understand. Everyone needs saving once in a while. Death is inevitable without it."

The man with the white collar flinched at his son's inane testament. "That is why people like _us_-" he paused and swallowed, his voice suddenly calm. " -have His consent, son. _We_ are saved with righteousness and prayers. _They_ are damned with demons from the underwater kingdom. There's the difference, Carlisle."

The answer was not good enough. Carlisle believed mer-folk and humans could live side by side in harmony. There was never any need to hate, although his father always tried to push hate on him. His father believed that people-things like mer-folk or vampires and such were abominations and shouldn't even be considered a race. God made Adam and Eve - not Adam, Eve and other beings consisting of supernatural creatures. Abominations shouldn't be treated as humans are. If they are, then they shall be gutted…like the fish they are, or have a stake driven through their hearts.

Carlisle's train of thought vanished with the echoing of firing forces against glass being shattered. He squinted to watch as bourbon bottles were thrown into the air and shot at. One after the other, bullets would sail through the air and explode like a firework of glass shards. Hooting, laughing, and cussing rang throughout the empty waters.

The night seemed to push the boat further through the mist. Then drunken men sank into another verse of the song.

"Father, shouldn't we give them the silent prayer now before it happens? We still have time. I know you've languished but they have not. Let me, sir. I know for sure that they are definitely not pirates, they're sailors. They're men. Human beings. They at least deserve closure before they d-."

"Carlisle." his father stated, trembling with anger.

"Is it enough, _sir_? Is it really enough to let these men die because they're young and inane. Is it?"

"Son." The menacing tone hit Carlisle like raindrops; it only refreshed him to say more of his mind. His tongue would not falter against his father's beliefs.

"Do we not believe in forgiveness? Those men aren't damned! If we don't believe in them, who will? Who? Why don't you bless those in need? Does God tell you not to, or are you pushing Him out when you think you're right like you do to me now?"

"Enough, Carlisle!"

Carlisle flinched against the blunt force of his father's hand against his cheek. Carlisle swallowed. His father was truly angry with him. His mind was in a state of shock at his father's action. Just the distant "Hoorah!"'s that were shouted drunkenly from miles away were heard between the heated two.

" I said enough." His voice cracked on the last syllable. He shut his eyes and breathed through his nose heavily. He gripped Carlisle's shoulder as a stable object to keep himself together.

Carlisle stood and stared at his estranged father as if he had no idea who he was. It suddenly hit him as hard as his father's blow: he would never understand him. They were on two different sides of the fence. Carlisle saw the cup half-full while his father always saw it half-empty. He will never speak through to him. It was as if he saw his father wearing brown trousers and he would say, "Father, you're wearing brown trousers, and his father would look down and say "No I'm not." He was a living, breathing statue with a heart that would beat but never crack.

At that moment, Carlisle understood completely. His father looked up wearily to his son. "Apologize for disobeying me. But it won't save you from an immediate lashing when you get home. You've brought this upon yourself, that uncivil display you've uttered to me in that tone."

Carlisle could feel his lips moving to an apology against his fathers command, but his eardrums hadn't picked up one of his useless words.

When he realized that his lips were sealed shut, his father nodded and walked down the wet cobblestone street. He hadn't moved an inch. There was no need when you've just concluded that the person you've been following, that you've dedicated your whole life to, that all the things the person put you through - the misery you've suffered, all of the glares and words of chastisement - have been for the sake of hoping that you would hold the bloody knife in your hand. That you'll be the one to hate those who have disgraced just once in their lives. To burn those who are not perfect but try anyway.

The smoke faded from the mirrors. A sob escaped Carlisle's lips as he turned his face to the fading voices of the victims. He could see nothing. They'd moved passed the mist.

Carlisle hurriedly shut his eyes and ushered a quick, silent prayer before he heard it. But just as a whispered 'amen' fell from his lips, the bloodcurdling screams echoed all around him. Splashing was immediately heard after Carlisle struggled to grasp himself and walk away, but nothing could've moved him. Carlisle touched his shoulder blades and forehead and brought his fingers to his lips with a silent kiss to anther prayer. Hopefully God would hear him.

He sank to his knees and sobbed hysterically, breaking into a million pieces, whispering words of the promise land to the victims whose screams were lost under the wrath of the sea.

_o__**O**__o_

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><p><em>So Carlisle's got it pretty bad huh? This chapter really is a foundation for the relationships between everyone. Hopefully, I've done so thoroughly so you all understand. I'd love to hear what you think and I hope you all enjoyed reading it as I did writing it! <em>


	2. Myth of Sleep

_**Chapter 1:**_

_**Myth of Sleep**_

The one thing that never ceased to amaze Carlisle was time. Being trapped in the endless stream of time in the present could so suddenly bring you back to the past, to the things you wanted to forget. Carlisle was a prisoner of his memory. It was a real bother to him. The feeling of being sucked dry of your own sense and willpower was exhausting. Not being able to shake off the leech on his skin made his anger boil for reasons he couldn't even comprehend.

It seemed to always pass by him like an acquaintance on a sidewalk. It would try and find him whenever he was consigned to oblivion, like a night watcher who always forgot the sun in the sky at dawn. Unceasingly Carlisle searched for someone, something that would serve his final release and triumph over his visited fear. But sadly there was nothing that could. All he discovered were theories. Maybe sleep could banish the small tremble in his hand. They did say that dreams were always an available escape.

He breathed soundly through his nose, hopefully exhaling the negative thoughts from his mind so he could get back to dreaming.

_Tick Tock. Ding!_

The sound of his ancient Victorian clock chiming above his head woke him abruptly. His eyes snapped open, and his vision blurred at how harsh his existence was. An exasperated sigh left his lips.

"Ahhh!" he hissed and dropped down. The cot's legs buckled in annoyance at his falter.

The seven o'clock morning rays from the sun blinded him.

_"Oh!" _he heard a squeak not far away. Through his blurred vision he caught sight of golden blonde hair.

"Claira," he mumbled, moving to turn around. He stopped short as small whips of pain started at the blades of his shoulders. He felt a soft, warm hand gently push him back down.

"No, Carlisle. You must rest, for your wounds will open again and bleed. I was j-just changing your wrap…to-tend to them." Her stutter was starting. Oh, that adorable stutter that he so loved.

It made her seem more modest. It happened whenever she was flustered - and by her broken tone of voice and pink cheeks, she must have been flustered at the moment. The soft breeze came through the crack in the window and brushed freely on his skin. It raised a light layer of goose bumps across his back.

Carlisle sighed.

Apparently Claira's distress came from his state of undress. His entire torso was bare. Surely it would make any girl with a right mind uncomfortable to see a half naked man so close. From his bed he located his shirt, still hanging innocently from a wooden chair across the room.

He could do nothing else but spy quietly on Claira as she nursed him.

Carlisle just kept his steady gaze on her flustered face. The pink hue of embarrassment stained her cheeks as she looked down and fidgeted with the discolored corner of the dainty wash cloth.

"I don't want you in anymore pain. I guess that's why…" she uttered softly, not finishing her thought.

Claira slowly squeezed the rag out from the water pail sitting on the side of his bed. He hissed slightly when the cold rag nuzzled his wound.

"Sorry," she mumbled meekly.

Claira was a delicate girl with long corn-silk hair and wide, oddly colored blue eyes. Her nose was thin and slightly pointed. Her chin, round and small, with the rosiest lips he'd ever seen. Her petite body was stiff and careful as she moved closer to him. Her swan-like neck stretched as she peered closer to his skin. Her long finger lightly traced the outline of lashing wounds. She sighed.

"Obedience is the way we sho-"

"Claira please, don't _defend_ him."

Her eyes widened at his raised voice and she quickly looked down, patting his gash lightly. "I wasn't implying… I'm up for no ones defenses. The law was never an interest I wanted to pursue." A small smile was tugging at her rosy lips.

"Claira," Carlisle started. She stifled a giggle and dropped the rag in the pail with a slopping sound.

"A laugh would never hurt anyone." Her blue eyes shimmered like a calm ocean spring. His blond head didn't even flinch as it tuned away from her.

"_Obedience_," he spat. "If it were my father, to whom has he shown it? If it were me, to whom should I show it?" he whispered, looking straight ahead at the small intricate detail of sailboats on the mantel.

"Relax," she said, gently pushing his head back down. "He still cares, you know. He's worried for you." Her eyes were fixed on her limp rag. "Perhaps you both can talk and sort things out."

She heard crickets.

"Humph!" Carlisle snorted, laying his head on his crossed arms.

Then silence fell, a sound more frightening than that of men screaming for their lives.

"Today's happy face, today's sad face. Yesterday's weak self, tomorrow's strong self. Must you be so cunning this early in the morning?" she asked, picking the rag up from the pail again.

He didn't dare say a word.

"Well, since you seem to be out of tongue for the man, maybe you can tell me what happened. Surely it must have been the worst kind of sin to result in this kind of damage," she said, more closely inspecting his gashes. Carlisle could feel the short rasps of breath she took as they hit his lower back.

He remembered the walk home, as daunting as jumping a fifteen foot leap to the other side, so he stalled as much time as possible, knowing what he would get from his father. But it couldn't change reality.

_The more the light slowly faded away, the more his fear crept along the shadows steadily behind him. _

_The tormenting thoughts of pain overtook his mind in that one instant as the sight of his own home came into view. He started forward but made a brisk turn to his left towards the monstrous farmhouse that they never used. Not to think, not to listen, just to go numb was his choice of defense. His back tingled knowing what was coming to his flesh. His body wouldn't give into the silence that surrounded him. His heavy breathing intensified his urge to run the opposite direction. The farmhouse was dark with only the exception of an oil lamp or two on the table where the silhouette of his father's large body put shadows on the wall. If Carlisle squinted, he could practically the silhouette's horns...and a tail lashing from side to side._

_He heard his slow, shallow breathing all around him._

_His eyes were stinging and puffy from his weeping back at the cove. His father was slowly ascending, creeping towards him, closing in on his light until the darkness swept Carlisle entirely. Carlisle was suddenly afraid to turn his back, but he did it...and he rested his arms on the wooden handles on one of the barn doors. His fingers flexed around the brass knobs, trying to knead away some of the tension in his stiff body._

_He began to panic quietly. Screaming would've released his tension, but he but didn't dare, as he felt his father's hostility. Carlisle could hear his father's steady breathing as the quick sound of the leather crop rode the air. Intense pain washed over his body as each lash hit him like the lick of the devil's tongue. Try not to scream, he told himself over and over. It felt like thousands of knives were cutting deep into his back_

_He felt his cold icy hands tighten their grip on his arm, and he know it wouldn't be long now... Soon it would be over. The first blow left him stunned. He froze to collect his scattered thoughts, but as he gathered more and more into his hands they broke into smaller and smaller pieces. Then the second one brought him back to reality. There were no pieces in his hands because they were locked tightly onto the holding bars on the wall. The less he thought, the less he felt - thus, the better it was. The lashes were quick but still torturous to endure. His father's grunts couldn't mask the sharp 'whip' sounds of the crop, and they certainly didn't mask the putrid anger poking the core of Carlisle's body with every strike._

_"You must learn, son. Not all deserve compassion for their faults, but instead they must learn on their own. Obedience will hold your head high and straighten your back when it sags. The pleasure of learning is still in your grasp. Sacrifice your mind to succumb to something you are not familiar with," his words were concrete, blurring around Carlisle as his consciousness did._

_Without warning, Carlisle felt his legs buckle and he collapsed under the pain._

_He laid there on the floor, thinking it was finally over. He was sweating profusely, wisps of hay stuck to his face and neck._

_His father's footsteps echoed throughout the empty room. Carlisle's body was bleeding; his soul was bruised all over. Silently he laid there thinking, and for the second time that night Carlisle sobbed. He'd never understand the art of submission. No matter what, he would never submit to something as vile as obedience._

_The darkness began to lift, but his anger stayed on stiff end. He knew his tears would be back again once the light dispersed, and until then he would get up and walk like a man. But now he would enjoy the few seconds of freedom he had been granted._

_So there Carlisle lay, sobbing with eyes rimmed red around molten blue, as deep and sorrowful as the night sky without the moon._

Carlisle shut his eyes. "I do not desire to speak about it," he sighed.

"As you wish."

The whisper of silence was mellow in Carlisle's ear. The dead air between the pair beckoned to reveal the hidden thoughts they wouldn't speak aloud. As soon as Claira was done tending to him and had wrapped him up, he quickly scuttled across the room and threw his shirt over his head. From the corner of his vision, he saw her eyes undressing his body just as he pinched his remaining buttons.

He stood before her, clad from head to toe in cotton and wool, somber in mood as he waited. Claira stood momentarily mute, transfixed as her blue eyes drank him in - not in huge gulps but in savoring sips, as if she'd learned not to gorge herself. His strong gaze forced her head down so that she sat there twiddling her thumbs in her lap, not meeting his stare from across the room.

"I thank you sincerely…Claira." His voice rang with modesty.

She looked up and smiled sweetly. "You're very welcome, Carlisle. It was the least I could do since you were literally broken last night when I found you."

_Found him?_

Her blond brows came together over the same blue eyes that reflected the same worry as they had the night before. "I heard your cries from the house - they're not very far apart at all, you know. You were on the ground, your breath was so heavy, and you were absolutely filthy. I had to help you."

"I wasn't crying," he insisted in disbelief. Her words burned him like hot coals. He felt that heat run up his chest to his face.

Claira's skirts bustled around her petite body as she rushed over to him in protest. "Your mouth lies but your red ears tell the truth. No need to be embarrassed, Carlisle - every man has the right to sound like a babbling brook once in a while. I could've grown crops with your tears," she finished, giggling madly.

Did she find something _funny_?There wasn't any humor in the situation that he was aware of.

"You think this is a laugh, eh?" he asked irritably.

She nodded.

"Well, then I suppose you just stick up your nose to men whom are _sensitive_." He needed a cover then and there. He was rendered helpless to her confession, and rolling with the punches seemed inevitable when he was already knocked out.

"_Sensitive_?" Her brow raised in question.

"Yes," he said defiantly. "And you, on the other hand, have no feeling to shed a tear."

"Me! I have feelings! A woman is made of emotions." She scoffed, placing her hands on her wide hips.

"Well I guess you're one of the unlucky few who are not." He turned on his heel, grinning like a fool as he twiddled a handkerchief, waiting for her next words.

"So that is what you dub me? A woman with a heart of frost?" he heard behind him.

"So be it," he mumbled. "I have no say in this." He turned to face her and saw the corners of her mouth twitching to fight the laughter.

"No say? You just declared this name for me." Her hands dropped to her sides with a swoosh of her skirts.

"Nay, you see, you have it all wrong. I only brought up your lack of feelings so you could see the problem for yourself. I should make sure that everyone else knows just how much of a cold-hearted one you are."

"You wouldn't! They'd think of me as nothing but a snob or worse."

"Titles come with consequences, Claira. You must set them straight again when they've been knocked crooked."

"That's ludicrous!" Claira threw her hands to the air. Her boots stomped down on the wooden floor in front of him. "Seal your lips and never breathe a word," she said, only inches from him now.

"_Oh, me and my loose lips_. I fear we may never meet the challenge. _Unless..." _His voice took on a silkiness that unnerved her more.

"Unless what?"

"Unless you donate your precious time to accompany me into town to pick up a few things," he spoke softly, still sensing her displeasure.

"Why should I?" She shook her head with a witty smile.

"Well, it shows you are happy to oblige to another's needs, and it's a very nice thing to do."

"And your loose lips will be sewn?" She cocked her head with an expectant look.

"You may snip the thread and pinch the needle. I solemnly swear, my lady." Carlisle raised his hand to his heart in salute. Claira understood the empty threat attached to what seemed an innocuous request.

"Well then, I would love to. It so happens that I have to visit the apothecary for some more remedies."

"Wonderful. See how much of an aide we are to each other? We shall leave at the eleventh hour, if that's all right with you, I mean…" His voice quieted and she quickly turned around with alarm in her eyes.

"Aye, it's perfect!….I mean it would do well for me." She gave a modest smile and Carlisle lightly chuckled as he noticed the pink burn of her blush darkening her breast and up her neck to her cheeks. He looked away silently as she noticed where his gaze lingered.

"Gracious lady, I pray you for forgiveness from my unbefitting gaze. I just…I…" he stuttered, all politeness and unimpeachable decorum.

The silence hung in the air between them as they both shyly looked away from each other.

"Well, I'll be going now, Carlisle. I bid you a good day until we meet when the clock strikes at the eleventh hour." She sweetly smiled, shoving her medical instruments in her wicker basket. "We'll meet at the Ville Square, won't we?"

"Yes, that would be perfect." He smiled, his dimples burrowing themselves deeper into his cheeks.

Claira grasped her basket and turned on her heel, only pausing at the doorway. "And if you do go back on your word, Sir Cullen, please believe me when I say that it will be my carriage and horses that will trample you until you're no longer breathing. A message from the 'ice queen'," she coyly promised and flashed a gentle smile, then disappeared. He could hear her soft steps padding away down the cobblestone pathway.

His heartbeat was thundering in his chest. _Why? _Surely he never thought about Claira in that way, she was just a girl…_whose body reminded him so much of a woman_… Carlisle shook his head of his ghastly thoughts.

Claira was more of a kinsman to him. They took care of each other when they were younger. She was a family friend, closer to him then the clothes he wore on his back.

"No…No, no, no ,no, no," he whispered, snatching his thin over-coat from a nearby chair.

Well, she was unmistakably beautiful. He'd always thought that, formal relationship or not. There was always one quality they both shared that always set them apart: their hair.

As children they both shared the blond hair that seemed to differ from all others in town were dirty blonds, strawberry blonds, but never a sheer yellow platinum that he and Claira were. Carlisle ran his hand through his tousled waves to at least control it a bit but to no avail. With a sigh he was settled. That's what would set them apart from having any romantic feelings. Their hair! Some could mistake them as siblings for their similarity. And hell, if that's what it took to reign in this inappropriate feeling, then that it would be.

But one feeling he was absolute about was his grogginess. Dreams hadn't helped him in the least. All he dreamt of was water, precisely the thing he wanted to forget. He came to the conclusion that his dream remedy was a sham. Sleep was a myth that he didn't need to look into any longer. He all but sailed to his cot where his pillowed caressed his face, like a meeting a lover after a long period of time.

He was tired, so very tired.

_**...{~o~}oOo{~o~}...**_

At the strike of eleven o'clock that afternoon, both Claira and Carlisle both stepped into the small shop of an apothecary owner by the name Miss Whinny Levore.

"Hello, Whinny! I'm here to pick up my order," Claira called, stepping in. The ring of the bell at the top of the door halted Whinny's sweet singing.

A plump woman with a button nose and pink cheeks waddled into the room. "Why hello, child. Oh, and sir Cullen. How are you both this evenin'?"

"We're very well, thank you. And you? How's young Ned?" Whinny had her young nephew staying with her since his father had been shipped off to sea sometime ago.

Whinny paced back in forth from shelf to shelf, pulling out different jars and stuffing them into a basket.

"Oh, you know him! Speaking another language that ain't proper and never scrubbin' that filthy neck of his. Humpf! The boy is seven years young and can't even tie his damn shoes!" She huffed. "Alrighty, that order now?"

"Please correct me if I'm mistaken." She held a small slip of paper between her pudgy fingertips. Her round glasses were perched to the tip of her nose as she read. "Here we are; tobacco, arsenic, lily root and dried toad." her eyes stopped and she looked up at Claira.

"Yes, that's perfect."

Whinny's smile rendered her charm defenseless. "That will be three shillings and a sixpence if you please," she said sweetly.

Carlisle heard the coins clinking as Claira started digging through her small purse.

"No. I have it," he said, whipping out the couple of coins in his pocket. "Here you are, Whinny." Carlisle slid the amount over the counter. Her eyes were almost bulging out of their sockets in surprise. Claira still held her small velvet purse between her fingertips, just staring at the money he passed over. Whinny's eyes only glanced to Claira with a mischievous look he couldn't exactly understand. She pocketed the money quickly.

"You're right, he's really somethin'." Whinny smiled, brushing off some dust with her dingy hand rag.

Whinny's words had his stomach clenching with apprehensiveness.

"Pardon?" Carlisle asked.

"Thank you!" Claira shouted over him. "Very much, you're too kind for your own good."

Carlisle cocked his head towards hers in confusion. She held a small essence of awe in her gaze with a small spice of…_longing_? Carlisle took a step closer to analyze her but before he could get a good look, she gasped from their sudden proximity and bowed her head down with a pink tint to her cheeks. "I could have finely paid in full…"

"No, it was a deed well-served."

"Why?" She looked up suddenly, staring deeply into his eyes.

It was a question he didn't necessarily have an answer for but he knew it was right because he had the urge to do it. Did he really need an explanation for a feeling?

"I..."

"Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of ruuuum!" sang a small voice. A young, filthy boy came bounding through the door of the small shop. He was only about three feet tall, smaller then any other child Carlisle had every seen. He had a cap on that was dusty with dirt and his face was streaked with mud and grime. He whistled with his hands in his pockets right up to Claira. As soon as he spotted her, he snatched off his cap and licked his small hand to brush over his dark mussed hair.

"How d'you do, Miss Claira? You're lookin' real beautiful this evenin' - like a spring time flower just bloomin'. Your eyes sparkle like the bluest waters of the ocean. Your hair is as fine and long like wheat in the most booty-full plantation from Mother earf'." He recited his English badly. Carlisle chuckled at the child's serenade of feelings. He was a puppy deeply in love. It was a wonder to behold.

"Why thank you, young Ned, you're welcome to look," Claira said, smiling down at him.

Whinny looked up in surprise. "A customer!" But her eyes narrowed into slits as she realized who came through the door. Her round body cornered the counter and she picked him up by his arms and shook him roughly. The young boy clutched his cap in his hands and gasped at the burly woman who came towards him like a bear.

"Where have you been, Ned? I've been worried sick since the crack of dawn to realize my boy's not snug in his bed but gone with the wind. You been with those hootin' hooligans down at the docks again, haven't you!"

"Me? I ain't gots' nothin' to do with 'em. I'm a good boy! A good boy I am and I be!" He hollered, kicking his pint sized legs in every direction.

"Hush up, Ned! You ain't speaking nothing but gibberish. Come; we need to get you all cleaned up now, lad." He grunted in displeasure and tried to shake her off, but he truly was no match for her. She turned towards her customers and smiled charmingly. Small wisps of her dark auburn hair fell on her face from her bun on the top of her head. She blew out, moving a few strands away from her perspiring face.

"Well, that's kids for ya. Here you go, dearie, be back soon!" she hooted, pushing the full basket forward before she disappeared behind a wall of shelves with the kicking and screaming boy on her hip. Discreetly, she eyed Claira and a wink.

The awkward silence was filled with grunts and yelling from the struggling young boy when the sound of a faucet shooting water was heard. Carlisle was out of tongue for the moment and tried to replay the events in his head to formulate a coherent thought.

"I love children," Claira sighed, turning towards the door.

_**...{~o~}oOo{~o~}...**_

The evening rays made a golden glow behind the wide and puffy white clouds. One would think they had grazed the dim cinders of heaven, they were so beautiful against the pink, orange, and purple hues oiling the golden sky.

The hustle and bustle of the busy London streets were now empty and lonesome as the two walked out of the square and into the slum streets. The only sound besides their footsteps was the chatter between themselves and the gulls perched high on the jagged fencing along the side of the street. Carlisle's voice was hard and angry as he spoke aloud to Claira once she inquired about his father and their strange relationship.

"Carlisle, won't you just follow him? Let him take the lead; it'll make him happy."

"But I don't want to, Claira! He's always been that way with me. I refuse to watch someone being hanged or burned alive at the stake. Their misery brings me no pleasure. All I've ever gotten was punishment and nothing else for that. I've always needed _to observe, to learn, to submit_! From now on, I'll walk like a man on my own." he finished, straightening his shirt. Claira, walked slowly by his side not uttering a peep. Their steps never quickened nor did they slow, it was a steady pace that suddenly made him uncomfortable.

He felt it. The uneasy peace.

The salt in the air burned his eyes and chapped his lips, his tongue swiped the dryness away, and the taste of salt and bitterness lingered on his tongue. The gulls squawked and spread their wings to circle high up above him, soaring over to the nearby coves beyond the wired fence. But what broke through their voices was melodic music.

_What was that? _He reared his head adjacently and widened his eyes. _Singing_. It was a woman singing. He almost didn't hear the soft voice of Claira breaking the silence.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up. Carlisle. I want to sincerely thank you again for paying the debt I owed. Your monstrous modesty simply over powers me," she claimed, biting her lip and watching her own foot as she lightly jumped over a hole in the ground.

He looked back at her face. "My parents taught their boy impeccable manners. Don't think another negative thought about it." He smiled. The packages in his hands seemed to feel a lot heavier. He wanted to run to the singing voice and didn't care much for the merchandise. The mysterious singer called to him, beckoned him to follow her. But _where_ was that voice coming from?

He vaguely heard Claira stifle a giggle. "I'm sure your mother would've been proud to see her boy all grown up. She probably would've floated on air at your immense fairness and boyish charm."

Carlisle snapped his head at her bold statement to look at her. She wouldn't meet his gaze, staring at her feet as she walked on. The air was so dense he could split it with a knife.

He turned his head again toward the singing voice, coming from the coves at his left... near the dock. The singing became softer with each step he took away from the dock.

"I have something I would like to say." Claira spoke quickly, cutting in front of him. She crashed clumsily into his body. "S-sorry," she jutted.

"I apologize," he mumbled. The packages were jostled in his hands as he tried to maintain their goods. He wanted so dearly to make like a horse and gallop away. What was she saying? _Feelings? Aw, hell._

"No, it's quite alright. Carlisle, I-" She looked into his eyes. He couldn't do this.

"Claira, I will speak with you at dusk in the gardens tomorrow. You'll meet me won't you?" he was already setting the small packages down. He needed to hear that voice. A heady investigation was already formulating in his head.

Her eyes were layered with specks of worry. "What? Well, of course I will. Carlisle, where are you going?"

Carlisle winced and took a step forward. "I can't give you an explanation at the moment. Please just go. I'll see you at dusk tomorrow and explain."

"But, Car-"

"Claira, I promise you with the most sincere words of my heart." Carlisle leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. "I'll bring you a banquet of prayers for your credence when we see eachother." He smiled in the moonlight, sure that it brought out his dimples.

Her eyes were dazed, and she leaned forward again to let his arms grasp her.

"Okay," she breathed. She stared at him, agape at his bold gesture.

"Here." He forced his basket of goods into her arms. The singing was softer now. He didn't want it to end.

"Carlisle." Her tone heeded a warning.

"I _promise_!" he called over his shoulder.

His steps were brisk as he walked along the narrow path down to the coves. He didn't have a moment's hesitation as he passed the battered wooden sign that read _Sunuva Cove_.

**_...{~o~}oOo{~o~}..._**

The moon was high and sparkling, contrasted beautifully in the onyx sky. The air was languid and thick and so was the toad in Carlisle's throat. The wooden boards creaked underneath him as he walked down the dock. The singing was so soft, it could've been mistaken for the wind. But yet he saw no one there.

Maybe he had fantasized the entire thing.

He stood at the end of the dock. The waters were dark and ominous, and the fog breathed in the distance. His heart pounded a staccato beat. He squinted, and there was still nothing.

"Had it gotten dark so quickly?" Carlisle turned and all around him was darkness. He found himself hugging his own body as the cold wrapped itself around him.

From the corner of his eye, Carlisle saw a bobbing figure.

"_Hello?_" he called, taking another step forward and poking his head out.

The bobbing figure moved slowly into the light. Carlisle gasped. It was a woman. A very _beautiful _woman with mocha skin and piercing brown eyes that looked at him in wonder.

"Who are you?" Carlisle demanded, staggering backward from the fair seductress. Slowly, the fog released its hold on his senses.

"Eve." she replied, placing her hands on the wooden dock's edge. Her voice was sensual, like the tingling sensation of an erotic massage. It made the pores of his skin open and blaze with excitement.

Carlisle felt himself sailing backwards onto his arse and gaping at her. Who was this mysteriously beautiful woman and why did she appear to be completely naked in the frigid water? He had so many questions, but his tongue could utter none of them. All he could get out were long gasps of breath. Being so incompetent in front of a woman was embarrassing, but at that moment the only thing that mattered to him was getting into that water with her.

His urge was deep and concentrated; this magnetic pull in his mind wanted him to go. It _needed_ him to go.

"Mrs.…Eve... you shouldn't be in that water. There's some very dangerous things in there. Did you fall in?" She stayed silent and bit her lip, staring at him with a hint of a smile. Carlisle bent down to his knees and reached out to her.

"Come, let me get you out of there, you must be freezing." Her eyes seemed to darken as he leaned closer. Her hand came up from beneath the water and he couldn't help but stare at the unusual markings and texture of her skin. A branded sort of design on her flesh caught his eyes; it seemed to be a deep green color. The strange tattoo adorned her dewy skin and crawled up her arm and neck like ivy. He could have followed it from the tip of her index finger and up her shoulder to her jaw. The moon gave her an ethereal glow. He didn't want to be rude but it honestly made him want to retreat. Eve quickly grasped his hand in her own.

"Where are you going? I thought you were going to help me, sir?" she whispered, grabbing his arm.

"Miss…I.."

"_I need your help_." He felt her face moving closer and closer... then he realized his own face was moving closer to hers as well.

What was he doing? The pull was so strong, and his willpower was weak. His heart rate sped up when he felt her breath on him, as she smelt of salt and slime. Her eyes were a peculiar shade of spiced amber. Her skin was a light mocha color and her dark hair was intricately braided with bits of seaweed and flowers. His eyes found her pale and plump lips that suddenly looked awfully inviting. Leaning closer, he felt his lip skim hers. She looked into his eyes and then down to his mouth.

"Will you love me?" she whispered. Carlisle was tongue-tied; the only thing he could do was nod his consent. His head became light, and he wasn't in control anymore. She was so beautiful. The force of a hundred running horses wouldn't have been able to drag him from her side.

His eyes stayed wide open as he felt the moistness of her mouth just on the tip of his lower lip.

_"Don't you dare touch him," _a deadly voice frightened the wits out of him. Carlisle turned away from Eve to get a glimpse of their intruder but she threw him back forcefully on the dock, sending him on his arse again.

Eve's exotic features sharpened and coiled into a grimace. She hissed at the caramel-haired goddess. "_I had him first. You get away. Now._" The halo of water surrounding her bubbled furiously, and the steam that rose around her made her seem even more baleful.

Carlisle's head was pounding through his ears. He shivered from the awe and alarm that fizzled on his skin and opened his pores to the reality of the night. He breathed deeply and felt awakened somehow. What happened to him?

Hisses and snarls were sounded throughout the sky, intensifying more and more like the report of a distant canon. _"Mine!" _a ferocious voice roared as the water splashed, and their anger escalated. The steam billowed off the surface and a small typhoon rose within the waters in front of him. What was he witnessing here?

He knew something remarkable was going on. His breath hitched, his hands began a violent tremble and his eyes grew wide as his gaze flew between the two women.

_Mine?_

They were fighting like animals. Carlisle found it hard to focus on one of them as their bodies moved skillfully and fast. Water was splashing everywhere, and he felt the drops that landed on him burn hot as if it were boiling. But something he saw made his heart stop.

Was he seeing what he really thought he was seeing? A flicker of what looked like a fish tail stood from the water and came crashing down with a force that sent more hot water on the dock. "Mermaids," he whispered.

Another blood curdling scream startled him. He was on his feet in a second and was backing away slowly from the scene in front of him. Everything was dark around him, he felt his chest tightening, and he suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Chills were running up and down his body as he shook uncontrollably, the overwhelming feeling of fear paralyzed his mind. He wasn't even thinking straight because his brain was still clouded from the fog. Flashes of the night's highlights were set into his brain, embedding themselves deeply so he would never forget. But he needed to forget...

Carlisle picked up his feet and moved forward. He needed to get away from the screams and the fear.

"No, n-no. Can't be real. I've only heard, never seen. So real," he rambled, pushing both his hands through his hair and pulling harshly. The pain didn't wake him up but only made his head throb. "Augh."

The cobblestone streets were wet and glittering from the evening shower. The air was thick with humidity but still cold from the chill of the docks.

Carlisle ran until he couldn't run any longer.

There he stood, in the mouth of an empty alley, gasping for much needed breath. Perspiration dripped from his forehead, and when he leaned his body against the wall, the slimy bricks stuck to his flimsy shirt and wreathed of urine and garbage. But it wasn't the smell that brought tears to his eyes. It was the truth. How could he prove to himself what he'd seen tonight wasn't _real_? He knew he couldn't. The back of his head hit the brick wall and he opened his eyes to the spell of the moon.

The star's eyes were like canary diamonds in the night sky. Their beauty seemed to make the silence heavier around him.

He stepped on tiny mice feet as he started to walk. The sparks ignited the ground with a thousand heartbeats and made his head hammer. His mind couldn't tell if it was all in his head or if it was really his erratic heartbeat. Just like the years in his past, Carlisle felt a wave a loneliness sweep him from his madness. But what he didn't know was that he wasn't alone; the night sang to him through the teeth that would reveal the truth in the sun when it came rising. But now the lies in the moon lulled the city to the whisper of silence.

The gulls flew South through the hazy light of the stars above. There he was, lost and traumatized as his feet chased the pavement. Carlisle hobbled onward as the London crows squawked and pestered at his brain, their calls like gunshots in his ears. The moon was hanging full underneath a cap of dark clouds - and once again as the night before, under the dim light of the stars, he wept.

The clock struck a number faster and faster, unrelenting and never on his side. Was _anything_ going to show him mercy on this night? Not likely.

Time was sometimes a very cruel thing, but the present was made by that cruelty, and that was what _truly bothered Carlisle about time._


	3. At Dusk in the Garden

_" Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best; it removes all that is base. All men are afraid in battle. The coward is the one who lets his fear overcome his sense of duty. Duty is the essence of manhood."__  
>~George S. Patton<br>_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 2:<strong>_

_**At Dusk in the Garden**__**  
><strong>_

* * *

><p>Everybody worried that a fruitless dream was poison. That the world was like a book with a decided ending. That when the sun set, it disappeared for good and would never came back. Living in the dark of the sky and in the dark of our over analytical minds was a frightening possibility. But living in the dark and not being able to see the things that did lurk at night was comforting. Those things that crept around corridors without making a sound shackled Carlisle and wrapped around his ankles, tying him to the mast of revulsion. Those monsters were still heard and felt, and would always be there, light or day; imaginative or not.<p>

When the eeriness of the dark evaporated into the sky, so did his fear.

The smiling morning replaced the frowning night. He watched as the darkness stumbled out of the sun's path like a drunken man. Carlisle's mind swerved in so many different directions as he crossed avenue after avenue to reach a secluded garden across town.

Carlisle's dread followed him like his shadow, never closing in and never receding but kept at a steady pace as he threaded his way through the streets of London. He looked over his shoulder one too many times and ducked his head lower than usual from any townies that were around. His night of truth had cast a dark spell around him that made his whole body limp with sorrow and his thoughts hollow. His back was stiff and his bandages dripped with sweat and dry blood down the seam of his back.

What a heavy morning it was. Gravity pushed him down to a hobbled gait. He felt like Atlas with the world weighing down on his shoulders. The pressure was unrelenting to the sore muscles of his back and had no mercy on his happiness. Was this the way it would always be? Stuck in the past, abandoning his present to forget his future? His body was tense and fatigued; he'd been on the edge for quite some time now, and he wondered if whatever was out to get him would greet him politely and take him to do the treacherous things they'd planned.

"Hello."

"Gah!" Carlisle yelped in surprise and jumped back from the overgrown shrubs. Green leaves clawed at him through the bars of the black metal gate.

"I'm sorry," a soft voice whispered.

Carlisle closed his eyes in relief as he saw the familiar ice blue eyes of his kin Claira. "Claira, it's you. You've given me such a fright." She looked quite lovely, at least compared to him. Soft puffy sleeves to the elbows were enhanced by a bow on each cinched cuff. Nipped at the waist, the full skirt flowed gently in a rainbow of dark greens to the tips of her feet, while floral ivy edged the curved bodice, neckline, and hem. Her curves were tentative to his sight and her breasts were slightly pushed up to reveal more of her assets; he would have known better not to look. A woven straw hat sat at the top of her head and a green ribbon was fastened under her chin. The shine in her hair almost blinded him as it cascaded to her belly. Oh, how lovely she looked. It made him think twice of his own appearance... A nearby well would have sufficed for a quick bath.

"I apologize. You just seem a bit…" Her voice quieted and she looked down at her boots for the right word. "Jumpy!" she shouted, making him jump back into the gate. Carlisle massaged his head with his forefingers.

Her outburst of laughter made him chuckle himself. "A bit paranoid this evening?" She smiled wittedly, tilting her head to one side while her hands clasped behind her back.

"From the events last night." Her eyes turned from a blue ocean to molten steel.

"Well, let us get more comfortable." He nodded and followed her yellow haired head through the entrance of the enclosure.

The golden sunbeams illuminated the unkempt garden. They strolled down the walk to a stone bench enclosed by an overgrown boxwood hedge. The greenery provided some privacy once the couple seated themselves. The skies were in fashion, dressed in blue silk instead of black above them both as he squinted at the scene.

"This season is quite beautiful." Claira softly caressed the soft pink petal of a rose.

Carlisle wiped his hands down the tops of his thighs, brushing away the sweat from his palms. "Yes, absolutely, Claira ."

"Where were you last night? I was worried when you didn't come home."

"I know, that's what I'd like to talk to you about. Something - I saw something last night." Carlisle heaved a shaky sigh. He felt his underarms break out in a cold sweat. The terrible memories of the night before played out behind his eyes. It made him shift uncomfortably in his seat of stone. He shivered and looked up into Claira's eyes that reminded him of the color of a pale blue sky before sunset.

"You look terrible," she spoke up, turning for a moment to look at him and then back to the flowers behind them.

"I feel terrible." He brushed a shaky hand through his unkempt and greasy hair.

"What in God's name happened last night?" Her jostled emotions were apparent in her voice.

"Claira, I saw something that I still can't believe. I still don't know what to do with the information I've acquired."

"Well spit it out, won't you?" her eyes were wide with anxiety and curiosity.

He took a deep breath and faced her bold eyes. "Last night, I came in contact with…mermaidens."

He searched her face for a reaction and found nothing but a blank stare in his direction. His back throbbed from his pounding heart, beating against his ribs and his spinal chord. He was assailed by a vicious churning in his stomach. Nerves, he decided, which mystified him. Horrible, dreadful nerves.

"Mermaidens, you say?" her voice was small and her eyes still held the bleakness of solid grey night. "Did they…" her unhushed thought brought a dreadful sensation to his stomach.

"Well, no. Frightened mostly. They were…beautiful. But still so fearful."

Claira turned her face sharply away from and tied and untied her fingers in her lap of billowy forest green skirts.

"Oh, well, that's normal Carlisle." her face perked up. Her eyes' sunken color now revived itself to a sparkling blue. "Tell me what else happened."

"Well, I heard the singing and then nothing at all. I searched the waters and saw one. Eve was her name," Carlisle explained. Claira raised a quizzical eyebrow at their first name basis. "She almost lured me in with her, and I tell you, I almost fell."

Claira's gave a small gasp and clutched his sleeve with her fist. Carlisle placed his hands over hers. Her skin was soft and felt so fragile to him. "But she was stopped by another maiden. A very beautiful one, I must add. They fought and I saw their tails and I knew then what they were and the danger they possessed, so I ran away before I could collect myself."

"And your dignity, to say the least." Claira chuckled to herself. "You didn't have any weapon with you, to defend yourself?"

"I was bare of any weapon and any sense."

She raised a hand to remove her woven hat from her head and run a hand through her wavy golden hair. She looked to him curiously.

"Telling your father would be the most sensible thing to do." She spoke to herself, and stroked her fine skirts tenderly. "It would ensure your safety. I'm still so surprised you didn't do a thing to defend yourself, let alone get pulled in by one by the hand. You should never take one on alone. They're sirens, Carlisle. They sing to enchant."

"They were strong," he defended.

"And you should be stronger." She turned her head to him sharply.

"I will be when the time and opportunity comes to me."

"Well, that could very well happen tonight. You may redeem yourself in front of everyone. They'll see you as his real son." She clasped her hands together proudly.

"I supposed I could try. Although I don't think talking needs a crowd."

"So you'll do it? Please?"

There was no way he could explain to her. "Do what?" He was still lost on all parts.

"Tell your father that you've decided to join him in the reaping tonight. The hunt taking place?" That hunt was something he was dreading for weeks since he declined his father's offer.

Carlisle furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Claira's facial expression mirrored his, for different reasons.

"Wait no, I-"

"I know you're nervous about it, but this new discovery could lead to the ultimate trust between you and your father. Don't be afraid of him not believing you. Just letting him know that these dreadful mermaidens are indeed nearby will give you the edge that you need. The experience seems pretty real to me."

Carlisle wasn't afraid of his father and their relationship, he was scared of his own self and what he would do if they came face-to-face once again. Claira had the wrong idea and ran far ahead of him, dangling it in victory.

"Aye. Alrighty," he sighed in surrender and rolled his eyes mentally. This did not go as planned. Now with this new plan in action, he thought how would he go about this? He couldn't help but think of one and a million scenarios in his head of how the carpet would roll out. "But how…?"

"Oh, I've got it all ready and prepared." She smiled with a wave of her hand. "It should be concise, humble but real. Like this," her voice suddenly changed to mimic that of a burly and gruff man.

_"Hello, Father, I've sought out forgiveness from many, and I pray for yours as well. I've got information firsthand on those mermaidens nearby, if you would please let me accompany you on that hunt you've told me about, then I can help you find them and take care of them. I've changed my mind about it. It really is a great opportunity to learn of the family's specialty."_

"It wasn't extremely well thought out." He said, with his hand supporting his chin.

Claira scoffed and slapped his arm playfully.

"But what if he shooed me away and called a fib? He definitely would shun me."

"Well you can't afford to think that way can you?"

His expression didn't falter. She looked down and sighed. "Oh, cuss buckets! Ah, I have to pick up another order from Whinny. I fear that I've almost forgotten of our meeting." She shot up and hastily grabbed her hat. Her skirts swished as she carried herself away from him. She turned over to look at him again.

"Please do this for me, Carlisle. This will banish every fear you've had. This will help; I promise. This hunt could fulfill your need to feel like your father's son, once and for all," she called, walking backwards to see him. He squinted and nodded. Claira's smile seemed to brighten the garden further as she curtseyed and skipped away.

He watched her petite form dodge branches and turn on her heel at the gated entrance. "And by the way, the next time I see you again, be tidy if you please. No one will forgive you with a face and smell like that, aye?"

Carlisle sighed and reclined further on the bench. He didn't even realize the silent prayer he'd offered to his God as the fragrance of heaven wafted around him in response. It's smell was delightful but still didn't mask the scent of his fear, no matter how many deep breaths he took.

_**Ooo~ooOoo~ooO**_

Night had arrived with a crisp chill in the air.

The sky was decorated with an impressive display of tiny, twinkling stars and a brilliant crescent moon. A whistling wind blew a cool breeze down his spine and ruffled his hair back to his forehead no matter how many times he tried to push it back.

His evening with Claira hadn't gone as planned and yet there he stood, lost in his own thoughts of the past. She had completely taken it out of context and turned a fear to a bond. This was never his idealistic activity he wanted to perform with his father. But as she said, it would shift the tension between the both of them. She really believed that they could mend over each other's differences, didn't she? She thought they could all of this, if only they went on that 'hunt' together...

Werewolves, vampires, witches and ghouls weren't things he wanted to encounter first hand. He let that conference be led by his father and the other courageous men in town. Well, damn, if he had to roar with a flaming torch in his hand like a savage to earn his father's affection, then so be it.

"Carlisle." He turned his head to his father's stern voice. Mr. Minicken, the town's black smith, was deathly pallid and his face shined with a sheen of perspiration from the blue light of the moon as he stood by his father's side.

"Mr. Minicken. I pray you are well," Carlisle said with his hands tied together behind him. Mr. Minickens' eyes glazed over and he took a sharp breath.

"I certainly hope so, my boy." He gulped and lifted two shaking fingers to loosen the collar of his shirt. Carlisle nodded and turned to face the moon again. He didn't pretend to hear the two men only feet away from him

_"I worry for the boy, Father."_

_"I know. Something isn't right. My body quakes for his future. Just this morning he came to me, regarding mermaidens insight. He was like an insect panicking under fire. It isn't like him, I tell you."_

Carlisle heard his father sigh.

_"I swear if I hadn't seen him being pulled out of my heaving wife with my own two eyes, I wouldn't have believed he was mine."_

Carlisle felt his heart pang against his chest. He felt his blood run cold and his stomach flip and work its away up his body. Nausea filled his stomach, and his head churned with terrible thoughts.. His vision blurred as he staggered over to the brush and violently heaved the contents of his turbulent stomach into the bushes. He felt his fathers hand brush his back in consolation but only made him vomit even more.

"I fear the child is sick, Father. Do you think he could still join us tonight?" Mr. Minicken's voice was hurried with worry and fear.

"I apologize for my son's weakness. Just nerves we presume. It's his first hunt," the pastor confessed, moving his hand up and down Carlisle's back.

Carlisle heard soft foot falls from another person, and the smell of roses dizzied him even more. "Father, is Carlisle alright?" Claira's soft voice asked, out of breath.

"Ah, Claira, it's just a case of nerves."

"Oh, because I-I saw from the window. Oh, let me see him." Her steps barely crunched the gravel underneath her as she came to him. "You feel sick?" Carlisle didn't have time to answer as she helped him upright to feel his forehead. "No fever." she held his face between her delicate fingers and searched his eyes. "What happened?" her hands probed his torso and arms, squeezing his biceps lightly and up his shoulders. Her hands were cool but her touch made him uneasy. Claira's voice was high strung with anxiety. When her hand caressed his neck and her finger traced the golden chain of his cross, his heart leapt.

"Nothing-nothing." Carlisle grasped her hands that clung to his face and body. Her gasp of surprise loosened his grip on her wrists as he held them away from him. "I'm just nervous." He let them go with a sigh to fall down at her sides.

Carlisle tried not to notice how starry eyed his father looked when he saw his son interacting with this young woman.

"Nervous?" She held her hand up to her mouth. "Well remember what we've discussed, Carlisle, this could help you both. Come here." The relief of the cold damp cloth brought his mind back into the hole but still shaky. "Alright?" she shouted holding his shoulders. Her eyes were much more than a reflection. There was the fire that melted her anger and devastated her resolve. But sadness still crept it's way in there making him look down at the small chunks of vomit on his shoes. He kicked the gravel in hopes of redeeming them.

"Aye," he answered.

"Aye." Her voice was meek as she spoke, and her willowy frame became lost as she walked away.

"What a beauty, eh?" his father whispered. Carlisle cocked his head to meet his father's gaze. He turned his head to see Claira placing her wraps in her wicker basket, her face reddened in embarrassment when she looked up to meet both of their stares.

With ice-blond hair and sparkling blue eyes, her lovely, willowy body tempted the imagination, and her vivacious disposition added greatly to her popularity.

"A most desirable woman...and she wants you. Wife material," the pastor said, his emphasize surrounding 'wife'.

Carlisle only looked to his father with a stone solid face; emotion wasn't important anymore. His father sighed and patted his back roughly. "On we go."

Carlisle would never think of Claira as a proper wife for him. Maybe for another man, but not him. He watched his father walk away from him in the night and to the still shaken Mr. Minicken. Ironically, Claira may have been a more sturdy counterpart tonight, come to think of it.

"Carlisle." Her soft voice called behind him. He turned over to see her petite frame hidden halfway behind the stone column. "Do be careful and safe. Please," she said, her voice breaking mid-request.

Her blue eyes shined, from what he guessed to be emotional tears. Carlisle nodded and turned to follow the blaze of his father's torch through the chilly mist of the night.

This would be the bleakest night he would ever have to endure. The inside of his body seemed frozen. Beneath his damp skin, his muscles felt like enormous blocks of ice. The chill had seeped into his bones, and Carlisle feared he would ever thaw.

This hunt could be the end of him.

_**Ooo~ooOoo~ooO**_

The men roared like lions down the dark streets of London. Mothers and children hugged their husbands and fathers, bidding them adieu for safe travels. As the amount of men doubled then tripled, Carlisle knew that something was bound to happen tonight. Whatever they found would be greeted promptly by stones, spears, and fire. Carlisle's eyes darted from man to man in his group. The same determination shone in their eyes, in the way they stood with their heads high and their stakes rose. And there Carlisle was in dark brown trousers and a loose white billowy shirt with his hands in his pockets, in contrast to their darker attire and grim expressions. Carlisle looked down at himself and across the crowd again.

Young boys varying from the ages of twelve and up walked along with the men, trained to appear as determined as their fathers. They were so young, so innocent. They didn't deserve this.

The fire hummed around them as the lot turned to silence, and a marvelous gray horse came into view with Carlisle's father perched on it's back, holding up a bright oil lantern. Carlisle could only look up in awe at his father as everyone in the crowd did. His father stood for some moments gazing at his men, with affection beaming in one eye, and calculation shining out of the other.

"_Tonight_, boys will become men and men will become saviors of our city! There are monsters out there that we must abolish to keep the children safe." His father smiled, as the men cried out in agreement.

"We shall ensure that our women remain safe in our homes waiting for us, and not borrowed for a demon's evil antics!" Another round of applause broke out as his father raised his glory lamp for all to see, and the act itself brought silence once again.

"We all become one as givers, and abolish the demons that plague the earth. Tonight we commit to doing God's work. Tonight we fight. Tonight we prove our righteousness. Tonight we hunt!" His eyes were wild beneath his heavy brows, a blue so dark it reflected the sea by night.

The whole stage of men erupted in vigorous shouting and hurrahs, and just as all of their joyful souls leapt high into the air, Carlisle was still left at the ground looking at them all in agony. Was he the only one overcome by reality and his own heavy soul?

Carlisle searched the crowd and met the eyes of a young boy no older than nine or so, crying hysterically. His monstrous pitchfork teetered to one side as his small trembling fingers held onto its wooden pole tightly. Was he meant to become a man overnight or was this some sick joke? Why had this young boy come along?

Carlisle kept his steady gaze on the sad boy. His eyes were peculiar. There was nothing in them; it was wrong.

Suddenly the rough hands of a man took the young boy by the shoulders and shook him. The tall man's face was angry and his red moustache that only covered his upper lip was caked with soot and mucus as he kneeled down to look him in the eye. The boy only cried harder at the man's expression. He shook his small head from side to side as he wailed in anguish. The light of the fire illuminated the horrid scene around him. Carlisle saw the boy's unkempt, ferocious red hair - just the same shade as the man who had confronted him.

It was a conquest.

His father wanted him to become a man tonight as he became a savior. The angry man's lips moved fast and hard, as he held his son's arms tighter. With each pronunciation he shook him in emphasis to his words. The young boy's lips quivered and he blinked silent tears back, nodding and hanging his head low. The father stood from where he kneeled and collected his very own pitchfork and looked down at his son with dark eyes. He held sadness in his heart but determination in his soul. His son looked up in angst and his lip quivered again as he shot forward to grasp his father's knees, hugging onto his thighs, wrapping his arms around them fiercely. His pitchfork tumbled to the ground as he sobbed. His fathers jaw clenched and unclenched in dismay. He fought back sightless tears and threw his son's arms from around him and shoved him away.

The boy's red face was caked with mud and soot from the ground as he landed. His little body jerked and stilled as he laid there, staring up at the man who was supposed to love him. The man lingered for only a half a minute longer and disappeared with the rest of the men.

This was ludicrous. The boy just lay, unmoving, unseeing. It broke Carlisle's heart. Carlisle didn't know what it was that made him move to the boy, but he thought the boy reminded him of himself as a lad.

Young frightened eyes stared up at him as he towered over the boy's frail body. Carlisle sucked in a fitful breath through his thin lips and bent down.

"Come. What is your name child?" His hand poked out from his side to grab him.

"Harvey," he sniffled. "My name is Harvey." He took hold of Carlisle's and, a small seed of hope planted in his eyes. Carlisle didn't miss it.

"Harvey, my name is Carlisle. We are going to fight tonight." Harvey stood before him, red faced and sullen.

"No, I'm fairly certain that I can't. I'm a small lad, you hear? Papa wants me to fight but I'm afraid of the monsters," he cried, wiping his face with his smudged sleeve.

Carlisle sighed and grasped him by his small arms. "You're going to stay next to me, and I'll keep you safe, little one."

The boy nodded solemnly and crashed himself to Carlisle body. "Shhh, it's alright, Harvey. Everything will be fine, I promise."

"Carlisle?"

"Yes?"

"Please, do not make a promise you cannot keep."

Carlisle raised a fine brow at the young one's request and nodded. "I fully intend to keep you safe, Harvey. You are much too innocent for a meeting with death. Stay by my side, will you?"

"Aye. Here," he whispered. The smooth and polished wood of the pitchfork slid into his hand. Harvey's eyes held promise. "You'd do much better use then me, even though I don't believe you'll use it to an advantage."

"And why is that?"

"You're much too kind for a man," he stifled a smile.

"Come." Harvey latched his fingers to the pocket of Carlisle trousers. They walked side by side together and followed after the red and orange flames ahead.

_**Ooo~ooOoo~ooO**_

Walking always lead to a corollary. Whether it be good or bad, satisfying or wasteful. To Carlisle, his conclusion was a breakthrough of generations. Here a young boy was latched onto the pocket of his trousers and steadily tripped over the big cobblestones that his feet couldn't walk ordinarily over. They broke from the rest of the men as they split. The pair now walked alone, down the misty street that smelled of salt and seawater.

It was scary what the illation was at first. The realization of how similar they were. Carlisle saw a blond boy with frightened blue eyes hooked to his trousers. Harvey was so much like him. The overwhelming desire to fit into the mold of a man whose shoes were six sizes too large.

If Carlisle looked down into Harvey's eyes, would he see that same boy in there somewhere? Would the reflection of his fear show? Or would a false joy be there instead of a raw emotion? He was a child, with a childish mind and a childish imagination.

But when their eyes actually made contact, he was offended. They behaved as though they belonged to someone else. Someone watching. Looking out of the window at the sea. At a boat in the river. Or a passerby in the mist in a hat.

Carlisle was exasperated because he didn't know what that look meant. He put it somewhere between indifference and despair.

"Why are you here?" the fragile voice asked, looking up at him as he hopped over a stone.

"To become a savior, of course."

"When did _you _become a man?" his innocent question was really a threat.

"I never did, Harvey." Carlisle spoke, looking away from him in embarrassment. "Manhood did not wait until I was ready for it."

Harvey looked down thoughtfully, his read hair flopping to his forehead and his tears making clear streaks in the dirt on his cheeks.

Then it went on for a while, complete silence and the exception of their footfalls.

He looked back up at Carlisle. "I thought about it, and I would like to earn manhood for you," he said seriously. "I will earn it. You deserve manhood."

"No, no, Harvey, I must earn it on my own."

"I insist. I will get it. I promise." Carlisle knew he wasn't lying. His green eyes brimmed with sincerity and trust.

"Please do not make promises you cannot keep. Be a child, Harvey. You have time to earn manhood. It will come to you easily and steadily."

"Were you an exception?" the child asked.

"I don't believe so. Just lost."

"Not lost, misplaced perhaps." Carlisle looked down at the boy's dimpled cheeks and showed off his own. How alike they were indeed.

"Look." Harvey pointed a small finger at the figure ahead of them.

Carlisle squinted through the mist to see a pale and graceful figure of a male hobble over down the street. Its head snapped toward them. A battle cry slipped from his barred teeth as it turned to them both. Harvey's green eyes widened as the fear set in. The monster screamed again, coming right in front of them. It moved so fast, no more than a white blur.

Carlisle's feet tripped over one another as he tumbled backwards. Harvey's breathing turned haggard as he went with him. Keeping him safe wasn't an option. His conquest tonight was to save a life that he promised to keep.

The monster's long brown hair traveled down to his chest, and its ends were covered with cinders. His eyes were the most frightening of all. Layer upon layer of deep reds from velvet, to rose, to blood. Carlisle's eyes found Harvey's shaking form, huddled tightly to his knee. The monster's deathly pale body was graceful as it stalked towards them both, coming closer and closer. Carlisle never imagined such beauty for a man. His straight and strong features were in perfect proportion and so beautiful.

It was hard to believe it would kill them both at that moment. So when it raised its arm to strike, Carlisle instinctively grabbed Harvey's arm and hurled back onto the street with a terror in his eyes that he couldn't keep from coming out of his mouth. "Stand still," he spoke through gritted teeth. His eyes peered to his side, finding Harvey standing straight with his chest heaving and puffed out. The boy took a shaky step forward toward the monster that only stared like a statue.

"Harvey," Carlisle whispered, grabbing his ankle, and then he started to pull him back.

"No," the he whispered, squinting his eyes and clenching his jaw. His sweaty hand overlapped Carlisle's and his fingernails dug into his skin, prying his hands away from him.

"Harv-."

"I said no!" he turned around quickly and wound his foot back to send a hurling kick into Carlisle's open chest.

"Harvey, get back!" Carlisle gasped.

His little hand snatched the pitchfork from Carlisle's paralyzed fingers and his mouth opened as he let a roar of determination and ran forward. The monster's red eyes burned scarlet as it screeched and grunted. With only a swipe of its hand, Harvey's hair flopped to his forehead as he was sent sailing through the air and a soft thud was heard, followed by a low grunt. His little body convulsed and then stilled. Carlisle felt his heart stop. The monster man screeched like a banshee and became a blur of the night as it left him with the corpse of a child.

Carlisle walked forward to the boy, breathing heavily

Harvey's body lay there, unmoving, still and lifeless. His green eyes were a murky gray. The mist suffocated him from the inside, clouding his soul. Carlisle didn't know how long he stood there staring; it could have minutes, or hours for all he could care.

His arms and legs were bent unusually, they must have been broken. His skin was so very pale, and his veins were braided ropes underneath his thin skin in colors purple and blue. A sheen of sweat coated his body, as it laid there like a broken rag doll. Blood sputtered down his jaw and onto the floor as his face laid there with his eyes wide and knowing. A single lone tear slipped down his muddled porcelain cheek and down his bloody chin.

_"Carlisle!"_ He heard a voice that sounded of his father's. _"Go!" _the voice roared, but Carlisle's muscles coiled and stilled themselves in rebellion. His body wanted him to stay and look at what he'd done. When did his father get here? Did he see the whole thing? Was he always trailing behind them?

He would never thaw after this night. This was a hunt. Many would be prey. Carlisle's eyes gazed idly over the dead boy's body.

A small drop of blood trickled from Harvey's chapped lips. He lay very awkwardly, with his head thrown far back, making his neck appear unusually slender. His little legs, bent sharply at the knees, had never before seemed so dainty, so thin.

"Harvey," Carlisle choked. "You're more man than I'll ever be in this lifetime." He shook with a chill.

_"Carlisle!"_

"I'm sorry."

_"Carlisle, now!"_

He had no time for goodbyes, but for only an apology. A final tear from the boy's eye was enough, so Carlisle ran. He ran to his father's voice and away from the tear that he knew would haunt him.

His dry eyes were hazy and his temperature soared. The sharp surge pulsed through him. He failed to notice that his fists were clenched. His palms burned with anxiety. His body stung with palpitations. His heartbeat was like a drum in his chest; the macabre sound of war filled his ears. He would draw his blade and raise his shield, and yielding would never come to mind. Be it either for ivory or for horn, he would fight till the clear light of the morning sun.

His steps were brisk and agile as he stepped over the cobblestones. The sight of his father almost stopped him in his tracks but his sense of perseverance and passion overrode that. Blood streaked his father's jaw and scuffed the white strip on his collar. His blond hair was streaked in grime and covered in blood at the ends. But his eyes were full of vengeance.

"That demon ran over there to the docks. We've got a vampire at our throats," he said, breathing heavily as he pointed down over to the docks.

"I'll see to capture and kill, father. Let us go."

He nodded slowly, confused at his son's compliant attitude, yet his eyes cooled to a dark slate gray. Side by side they stalked to the docks where they followed the sounds of a struggling immortal that fought for his own life.

_**Ooo~ooOoo~ooO**_

"He's jumped! He's jumped!" his father shouted. "Quickly fetch a boat and catch him, before he flees!"

Carlisle made quick across the wet sand. His hands were clumsy as he untied knots to break one boat free. His nose wrinkled at the stark smell of straight salt.

Its bottom held grime that coated his hands as he pushed it off into the sea. The foam on the floor caught up to knees and soaked his shoes. The water's ice cold temperature made his muscles coil.

He leapt onto the boat and turned to face his father who held the heat of the night on a stick. The fire was ethereal as it was handed to him. The passing of the torch from father to son made Carlisle think blindly. He felt his father's faith through the passing of the torch and it made his heart leap.

"Be careful, son." he grunted, his blue eyes warm in the light of the fire. Carlisle nodded and his father pushed him out farther.

He heard a shriek and it made his rowing hand move faster. He would see to this monster's death personally. He was as far as he could've thrown himself. His father was no bigger then his hand if he compared.

Another ear-piercing shriek.

Carlisle grunted and held his hand to his ear in pain. He blinked a couple of times and leaned over. He couldn't hear. His left ear was deaf. The wood beneath his feet buckled.

Carlisle backed to the other side of the boat and held the light over the water. "Hello?" He waved it around frantically, hearing sounds but not seeing anything. "Unveil yourself, you beast, for I am here to slay you to death!' he shouted, holding his free hand to his wounded ear.

The water behind him lurched.

Carlisle spun quickly to hear a gasp. He brought the light closer over the water. There, a beautiful woman laid, fearful eyes peering from the water, staring at him. "Mmmm..." her mouth hummed under the water.

"Will I be the monster you fear?" he whispered, peering closer. She only stared in alarm. His damp skin prickled from a sharp wind that blew small embers of fire around him and burned the small hairs of his chest.

Her body levitated up and her face dripped and shined. The moon reflected her beauty across the waters and beyond. Those eyes. "You," he said, kneeling to the edge. She pushed herself closer to him, and the flap of her fin came up and splashed. "Mermaid." She nodded, looking into his eyes.

"Carlisle! Back! Back away, son!" Carlisle turned his head to see his father's eyes widened and his arms frantically untying a rope for a boat. "I said back, son!" he shouted. His father didn't matter, she did. Carlisle turned his face to hers. He gasped at their new close proximity. Her hands grasped the edge of the boat, and her face held a certain kind of joy.

"Where is it?" he asked, holding the torch above them both. The warm glow elevated her beauty. Her body flinched to the side at the newfound sensation of the heat of fire. She lolled her head to the side and looked back. There behind her was the decapitated body of the vampire, bubbling and then sinking. "You knew it would hurt me."

She looked down at her hands and then back up. Her eyes appeared a marvelous silver in the light. Her cheeks were dewy and pink. Her rose petal lips parted to reveal a row of white teeth. "Yes," he chuckled, looking closer at her beautiful face.

Tendrils of dark hair framed her face and stuck to her forehead and neck with long wisps of seaweed. A conch shell and a string of pearls wrapped her hair up to show off her long neck that he so longed to kiss.

"Carlisle, if you get any closer to that demon, so help my soul, you'll be bewitched by her ghastly powers!" Carlisle snapped his head towards his father's voice again. His father was right; he knew these mermaidens were dangerous.

Carlisle's mind raced with desire and apprehension. He had to listen to his father, the pastor. For he knew what the holy Lord wanted. Without the consent of his father, he knew he had no chance of reaching the golden gates. But the beautiful maiden had hypnotized his beliefs.

Carlisle's mind whipped past him and ran with the hollow winds. He was isolated with only his heart now.

"Carlisle, son I will not repeat myself!" the pastor barked from the shoreline.

"Trust me…sailor," she cooed, stroking his fingers.

Carlisle focused his concentration on the dashing creature in front of him and paid no attention to his father's brusque and urgent voice. His eyes caught the strange scales and markings that shimmered across the dorsum of her hand and faded to the beginnings of her fingers.

He couldn't continue on this way indefinitely, he knew that. But he felt as if he were in a carriage, barreling down the road at great speed, headed in an unknown direction. He was aware he must get off this ride for his own sake, but it was more than his not wanting to end the thrilling ride; he didn't think he could. His torch burned his skin as it dropped out of his nimble fingers and into the water. Her hand caressed his cheek as her mouth leaned toward his.

He heard the sizzle of the firewood fighting for its heat against the cold water as it landed in the ocean. The water lapped against the wooden boat, the screams of his father echoed in the distance, and the soft voice of reason in his mind was being gagged.

The water closed in on him as he fell off the edge of his sanity.

"Forgive me, Father."

* * *

><p><em>Childhood: the period of human life intermediate between the idiocy of infancy and the folly of youth - two removes from the sin of manhood and three from the remorse of age. <em>  
><em> ~Ambrose Bierce<em>_  
><em>

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><p>Hello friends! so this is the entirety of Carlisle and Esme first-well second meeting. It will get very steamy I tell you! Thank you for reading and let me know what you think. :)<p> 


	4. Forgive My Fins

...

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><p><strong><em>Voyage<em>**

**_Chapter 3: Forgive My Fins_**

* * *

><p>The dense grain on the field strutted many colors that streamed in liquid yellows, golds, oranges, and golden browns. The restless shadows in Carlisle's head were drawn there like a moth to a flame. They wanted to creep into the grain and turn to gold to be embraced in disguise. Their antics worked as they as they became transparent to his naked eye as he squinted at the hot afternoon sunlight that illuminated the sky through fluffy, swirling, white clouds that turned yellow fields of wheat into a golden ocean that swayed and rolled in the upland breeze underneath his bare feet.<p>

The green grass was soft and light. Like a feathered pillow fluffed by recent winds. In the distance, hazy blue mountains rose out of the gentle slopes, towering over the green and golds of the hills.

Dark emerald trees and shrubbery and amber hued poppies, dotted the landscape with warm senses of color. Fresh clean air, whooshed into Carlisle's lungs. With each whiff he carried the scent of sun heated grass and the earthy aroma of falling rain that the wind blew down from the mountains.

The sky was just as a golden as the wheat. Carlisle's hand reached out to a wisp of a stock just to make sure if it was real gold or not. It was warm from the overhead sun above him. Instinctively his hand picked it from amongst it's earthbound home and slipped it under his nose. It made his nose tingle and his spine shiver.

_How beautiful this place is, _he thought as he sat on a hilltop. While far away from him, rippled lights and shadows of butterflies danced across acres of sunshine. He sighed contently as the whisper of the grain murmured a wonder to him.

His head reclined on the warmth of he grass behind him. His ear was put to the ground as he laid there, basking in the sun of this golden adytum. Was this a dream? How real this was, was beyond him. He opened his eyes to the stems of the stocks that went beyond more than he could imagine. His fingers stroked them with careful fingers as if they would puff into sparkling dust before his eyes. "So beautiful." he whispered smiling.

He closed his eyes to concentrate around him. The rustles of leaves and wheat that blended with the soft staccato chirping of goldfinches and the quiet scuffling of rabbits as they burrowed into the earth, relaxed his nerves and opened his mind out as far as the wheat grew. But there was a sound beyond him, and beyond nature that was coming and fast. Like a thousand pounding drums coming his way. Carlisle snapped up and squinted farther out. There, burling towards him, were horses. Stark black horses, kicking dust behind them and trampling the wheat like air. There had to be dozens of them, chasing after the winds as it blew. A burly nay came from their mouths as they caught sight of him.

Carlisle legs felt like jelly as he started running. He pushed himself to run away from the thousands hooves that came clambering behind him closer and closer. His body stretched and flexed as he sprinted. His legs were heavy with exhaustion, but each time he looked back their black eyes mimicked the evil that he was always running from. "No." he gasped, wincing from the pain in his core. His legs felt like cement as he lifted one after the other. He looked down to not see golden waves of grass, but water coming up to his knees with the small traces of his adytum's burned yellow grass floating on the top.

Carlisle looked back again, to see the dark horses struggling themselves in the water. They splashed frantically and cried out in nay's to get away. Carlisle looked ahead and there burst the strangest vision of not the running wind-waves, but an tsunami of water that washed ahead in ridging and crumbling breakers and ceaseless motion and flow, coming towards him.

His soul suddenly felt century weary. The tide took him and accepted him all as he sank toward the weedy disarray of the bottom, leaving behind what he had already forgotten, the surface. That now overrun with the high travel of clouds. His arms flailed around him as he moved them frantically. His body panicked and he shut his mouth tightly conserving the little air he had in his lungs.

He moaned slightly hugging the water around him and he cracked an eye open to see the wonderful colors of underwater world. Vibrant colors of pinks, blues and oranges invaded his sight. Was death supposed to be this beautiful? He felt a strange pulling on his arm, Carlisle eased his head upward against the strong current that went down on him. His eyes widened and burned at the sight he saw above him. A woman, the woman! The mermaiden was taking his somewhere. When did she get here? Where would they go? Why was he here? She was going to kill him! He was one of the unlucky men who fell into the grasps of a mermaidens.

His breathing quickened as he opened his mouth to scream. His arms and legs wiggled and struggled from her titanium grip. Water filled is lungs as he opened and closed his mouth. The current that surround him only moved even faster than before as the world around him dimmed from the vibrant colors of the rainbow to the dull colors of a cloudy night, like a knob of color being turned lower and lower. And before he recognigized the images of his life that started flashing before his eyes, his world turned black.

_**Ooo~ooOoo~ooO **_

Carlisle's heart remained at a slow pace, as if it struggled to thump on it's own. But what accompanied his labored breathing and heartbeat was a new sound that puzzled his mind further. Carlisle squinted his eyelids as they adjusted to the dusk light of the sun from where he was. His cheek felt cold and numb, but a small stabbing feeling prodded his entire body like an untainted itch.

He nodded his head just to feel a rough surface that scratched his cheek like the texture of a man's hard stubble. The coldness that was close to painful, coated the tips of his ears and fingers. His body was sore as he fought to move his limbs slowly. He felt like an old tin man that rusted over many rain showers with his oil pump unreachable by only inches away. His heart sank at his body's reluctance to advise to his mind's command to move, so instead laid there, with his cheek against the rough and surrendered back to the sound of his slow heart.

Focusing once more, Carlisle heard a marvelous sound right then that stirred his paralyzed bones to oil themselves. A beautiful voice that calmed his erratic breath and mind of any thoughts. He slowly turned his stiff neck with a pop or two to his opposite side to see the most beautiful sight he had only remembered in a dream.

Her rose petal lips were painted a pale mauve that parted to let out a voice so enchanting, it had to be from a fallen dream from heaven itself. His eyes traveled down her body to her tentative fingers as they combed softly through her tendrils of caramel hair. He couldn't peel his eyes from her body that her long and tousled hair covered like a curtain. His fingers ached to trace the long thin ivy like designs embedded in her skin that traveled lightly like a fading, but there, tattoo.

He couldn't help his breath from hitching, as her scaly tail that reflected the greens and blues of the sea, accompanied her sad song with tail thumps against the hard surface of the sitting boulder she rested on to create a sorrowful and slow rhythm. Carlisle felt his eyes droop from her voice as she sang the unknown language of the curious deep.

Was it mermish? Was there ever such a language? If so, how beautiful it was spoken, so fluently with each stroke of her tongue that made his ears beckon the sweet sounds of her afflicted melody.

She was as real as holding the forbidden fruit in his very palm. It was she, who has bewitched him now. But his very own question still remained in the air as the soft winds the blew against his cold cheeks. Would she hurt him as he remembered from the screams of those men from the first day? Or would he have the experience of a lifetime with a mermaiden whom captured his heart?

He shuddered of the thought of her torturing him but gasped in pleasure of the things she could do to him…

The quick gulpful of air sailed down his throat to his stale lungs. His chest felt heavy and his throat burned from the salt as he felt the upchuck of his struggling lungs. Salt water sputtered from his lips and gurgled in his throat as he opened his mouth. His throat burned as he turned over to his back to cough heavily. His chest held a fire that ran up his throat and to his nostrils. His ears dripped as well as his coughs became more violent and his breaths more fitful.

Her gasp was quick and her singing ceased and a splash was followed.

So she would leave him here to die, how wonderful.

Carlisle felt drips of water through his ears, and shook his head avidly. "Aughh." he groaned closing his eyes. His head throbbed, and his back ached. He was a washed up man that she brought here to ruin.

But the worst of the scenario was, he didn't care. It was his fault for being nonsensical and foolish enough to drink the poison of siren that he was warned of. But still his brain shifted away from the truth of the matter and solely averted it's attention to the unrealistic expectation of fate and it's many powers to change what his destiny should be. And it was without a doubt death; his soul, which was the toll of the boatman, whom would reap him of the toxic that contaminated him to do the frightful things a dead man would need to remain at rest.

But still, that needn't to happen, faith was something he was taught from a very early age and was pressed on more as he rode to manhood. With both the combination of faith and fate (well if they both complied to his desire) no more would he worry of the dangers of the vast blue deep and the mythical.

But yet both held an absence in this moment in time and Carlisle didn't believe it was there to guide him until her soft and timid voice, that still remained certain, fluttered to meet him like a kiss of a delicate butterfly's soft wings by his ear.

"Name, human." He closed his eyes and drank the bountiful amount of oxygen that surrounded him. Her voice was crisp and dainty like the clean linen of a handkerchief. The brightness of the sun burned his vision as he fought not to meet her gaze that he felt burned his body as the sun his eyes.

"Carlisle." he answered blindly with his head still up. His heart beat erratically when a wet slapping sound roused his sense of hearing.

"Carlly-lislel?" she sounded out with a look of great concentration in her pointed, lovely features.

He laughed at her attempt to pronounce his name and broke the spell and turned his head to finally see her.

He gasped.

Her beauty seemed to escalate to another epiphany of sorts in the sunlight. Her skin held a light sheen of it's own but shown a deep paleness that almost teetered to resemble the color of a victim of drowning instead of a tan color that would normally result from the sun. Carlisle sat up quickly and sucked in a fitful breath at the pain emancipating from the juncture of his back. Getting closer to her proved to be a task most exceptional from the flirtation of her eyes as they danced with pleasure of his new proximity only about two measly feet from her.

"Car-ly-sle." he sounded out the syllables. She looked at him in wonder.

"Car-lislel." she smiled, her tongue twisted in a way that made him want it between his lips to collide with his own.

"No. Car-ly-sle." he sounded out the last syllable slowly, letting her understand that it didn't need as much emphasis. She nodded and scooted closer.

"Car-li-sle." she said with amazement. Carlisle grinned madly and squished himself against her. He wanted to teach her things that she would never learn in the sea. He wanted to hear her say his name when laughing, with urgency, with longing, under the spell of crying out in pleasure…

Without thinking Carlisle grabbed her hand in his, palm up and counted each syllable with her fingers.

"Car-," he tapped her pointer finger. "-li-," her middle finger propped itself upwards as their fingers connected. "-sle." Her teeth shined against her pale pink lips.

"Carlisle."

"Yes. Carlisle."

"Carlisle. Carlisle. Carlisle." she sang, clapping her scale clad hands and thumping her metallic tail. He laughed in amusement at her petty discovery.

Her exuberance over something so simple as to his name made his heart stutter. He nodded his head to the beat of her hands grinning like a madman.

The vixen gasped and snatched his hand out of his lap, brushing her fingers against his manhood, and it was then when Carlisle felt an odd sensation, a tightening his groin. She seemed oblivious to this new architecture in his trousers, her innocence exceeded to an infant.

Carlisle managed to smile and bury this new feeling to the back of his mind, in a mental chest in hopes to never find the key.

She gazed at his fingers and spread them out, palm up. She lifted two fingers

"Es-," she prodded his pointer finger, "-may." she looked up and smiled at him.

Carlisle looked down to his hand and back to her.

"Esme." he stated in wonder. "Your name?" he pointed to her. She nodded enthusiastically, beaming from her accomplishment.

"Esme." he stated , his voice thick with wonder. "That's beautiful."

It was a simple compliment. The word itself single handedly-_beautiful_, warmed her heart as it fluttered rapidly like a humming birds wings. That same feeling was mutual to Carlisle himself. The overwhelming urge to take her in his arms was prominent and hopefully imminent. Her smile faded almost instantly as he shaking hand paused, veering to hover on the heady wound on his shoulder. Carlisle looked down to see his shirt torn at the chest and the lightly bleeding wound that started from the front of his shoulder to the back. Carlisle felt the sting of his father's lashing once more that was committed to is memory.

"Ouch?" Esme whispered, her feather light strokes to his wounds made his body shiver. Her touch almost seemed hesitant, frightened. As if they would bleed under her hands with the slightest bit of pressure.

"Punishment." he chuckled.

Her eyes casted and a frown tilted her lips downwards. Her body twisted for him to see the her long, thick caramel mane that cascaded down to the end of her hips. Her pale fingers pulled her hair from his view to sit over her shoulder and that's when Carlisle saw the five claw marks of a hand run from the between the nape of her neck and her shoulder blade, down to her waist. "Battle scars." she said, over her shoulder. "Common." she said turning to face him.

"Aye, a very circumstantial similarity." he murmured. Her arched eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

He's looked at her before…But this time, Carlisle could really look at her. She picked herself up with her front arms and pushed herself closer to Carlisle's damp form with aggravated grunts.

"Is it heavy?" he asked eyeing her metallic scale clad tail.

"Very." she sighed "No land, only water." she grunted. "Touch?" she asked biting her lip as she settled herself. Her finger lightly traced a scale.

Carlisle only eyed her metallic tail a moment longer before crawling over to her. His hand shook slightly as he neared closer and closer to it's shining glory. Whenever he thought of the texture of a tail, he always thought they would be soft and amazing, but swiping his hand across one now, only made his stomach clench in disgust. "Ughh, it's slimy." he seethed, examining the sheer goop that coated his hand.

"Feel." she snatched his hand again and laid it on her tail, forcing his hand to rub it repeatedly.

"Yes that's nice. Very nice." he said, attempting to restrain his gag reflex.

"Oh!" she held her hand to her chest and her mouth gaped in surprise. Would she attack and rip his heart out for lunch? "Kelp and jellyfish.." she giggled admiring it herself with a stroke of her finger. He guessed personal hygiene was important to her own folk as well.

Silence pended down the air between them, but still held it's own mystery of the land.

"Feel?" her eyes grew with unquenchable curiosity as she peered down at his feet and looked back up at him.

"My feet?" he asked, with a raised brow.

"Feel." she said excitedly leaning into him.

Carlisle quirked his light brows and hesitantly lifted his leg to her, in fear of not getting it back.. "I suppose-gah!"

He watched her as she patted them and squeezed them tenderly. "What's this?"

"An ankle."

"This?"

"That's my heel."

"And these…"

"Those are-"

"Pigs! So small! See?" Carlisle let out a hearty laugh.

"Pigs, where the devil did you get that rubbish?" She rested his foot down in her lap. Carlisle felt the slimy residue coat his heel. She turned her head in confusion. "No, piggies?"

"They're not pigs, they're toes."

"Swam surface, human woman with tiny human and they ha ha ha!" she mock laughed. She held both his feet in each hand and laughed again, "Piggies."

"Those are for children. They like silly things such as those. It was only a game."

"Toes." She lifted his foot back in to her face and inhaled deeply, closing her eyes as if smelling a fragrant rose. Carlisle stared in mock horror as she opened her eyes to smile. "Yes, that's nice. Very nice." she mocked him ,smiling and patting them gently. Her face puckered as she gripped his pinkie toe with her two fingers. "Baby." she smiled.

"Alright, enough. Cut it out." is accent was thick and burly as he jerked his foot.

"Are _they_ heavy?" she asked.

He quickly snapped his foot back as she slid her finger in between them. "That tickles."

"Ouch?" she moved closer to him and stroked the wrinkly skin.

"No, I'm quite alright. It just makes me uncomfortable."

"Angry you here?" she mumbled looking down in embarrassment.

That very statement lingered in his mind as much as the blood that lingered in his tissues. Why _was_ he here? He remembered abandoning his ship, but for what exactly? Surely she would kill him now, if that's what she wanted him for. But then again he wouldn't mind enduring death from her if he really thought about it.

Esme quickly snatched his hand from his lap and kissed it tenderly, "Sorry." she whispered bowing her head. "Forgive me." her head laid on the ground before him. He felt the soft dew of her skin as she held it against her chest.

"It's alright." he said pulling it away from her. "Aye, aye, aye it's alright. No harm done. Look here." he said.

Esme raised her head slowly, her eyes lingered on the ground. Her gaze could never see the light if her head was bowed and her eyes were heavy.

"Look here, Esme." The expression in her eyes denoted feelings more than words. The emotions with her eyes were much more understood and emphasized more than mere saying. God, he thought, her eyes were so bright, flashing, deep, full of promise; she was all those things eyes were in books but never were in life, and he wanted her to be his.

Carlisle's gaze lingered on. Carlisle saw the depth of the feelings embedded there that he never thought was possible.

"My God, Esme. Your eyes. How have I never noticed them?"

A paroxysm spread over her with the uncomfortable shift of her body. "Mmmm?"

"The color," he breathed.

She gasped, drawing her hands to clutch her eyes.

"No more of that. " he said prying her hands from her face and brought her forward, bringing her closer to his speculative gaze.

"When you stand in the light. They're amazing... like molten gold. " He reached toward her but then pulled back. "They're beautiful. You're beautiful."

The medley of warm golds and striking greens that Carlisle was staring into, made his lips tingle and his hands reach out for her face. They were the most magical hazel eyes he's ever seen.

"So hypnotizing." he whispered

She whimpered,, moving away flustered from his advance. Carlisle snapped his hands together in embarrassment. _She was a woman, who should be treated with undutiful respect! _He couldn't believe his own rudeness. Carlisle snuck a peak back in her direction to see her twirling the ends of her hair nervously around her fingertips. It was then where he knew he needed to see her after this day.

_**Ooo~ooOoo~ooO **_

Carlisle was never really infatuated with the idea of time. It always escaped to quickly and never would come back after it has passed. So when he noticed the gulls running to sunset, he knew the hours of the day at hand were far gone and out of reach. The black of their wings contrasted beautifully with the smudged but coordinate hues of yellows pinks, purples and oranges in the sky that shimmered around the globe of golden light that made the waters sparkle like millions of diamonds.

But the beauty that lied there was a definite understatement to the beauty that sat next to him in the form of a half fish half maiden.

When his face turned to her, his eyes almost teared at the faint shimmer of her skin with the accustomed natural light of the receding sun.

"You have to take me back." he whispered. His mouth was dry when she looked at him with a furrowed brow.

"Leave Esme?" she spoke slowly, looking down in grief.

"No, Esme. Your fairness blinds me more than the light of the sun and your company is something I would bask in without hesitation if I could."

"Truth?"

"Absolutely."

"Want stay, stay." she grasped her hand in his, holding it to her chest. Carlisle felt the tip of her breast to peak at his touch.

"Esme." he groaned. "I fear that I cannot, I must leave back to my city, to my family. They could think of me as dead if I stayed."

"Promise." she said, squeezing his forearm.

Carlisle grazed her cheek with his hand. "I give you my word for our next meeting and the next hundred. For you a thousand times over, Esme."

She quirked an eyebrow. Carlisle let out a sigh and reached into his damp trouser pocket. He felt the cold metal and shivered. Her eyes brightened as the sight of his golden pocket watch in his hands. And her eyes only widened as big as saucers when he opened her hand and laid it in her palm so it's very long chain puddled in her hand.

"I have to come back for that, my mother left it to me. It's special in every way." he declared closing her hand to a fist. Esme only kept her gaze locked on it and Carlisle feared it would turn into stone. But the spell was broken as she looked at him for a long moment and catapulted her self into his arms. Carlisle grunted from the blunt force of her body to his.

"Truth." he said over her shoulder.

She smiled at his words and released her hold on him.

Carlisle agreed with a nod as he took her hand and placed a kiss on the tips of her fingers. Something flickered in the back of her eyes, but what it meant he wasn't certain. Her expression had not altered and though cordial, she remained close but cool. He raised his gaze back to her face, refusing to linger on her bosom as he knew where it would lead.

His promise meant a much to her as stars to constellations. The worse was, if he failed to discern his promise. The consequence could be a dreadful punishment that would make her existence even more wretched.

_**Ooo~ooOoo~ooO **_

The journey through the waters was as fast as a bullet moving through air. His nose burned from the slipping oxygen he let out idly as they both grew closer and closer to the surface. Their less then many breaks to the surface for air was time consuming as well as pleasurable, well at least for him he presumed. Spending more time, even if it only were under twenty seconds, would be enough for him to look at her face, and steadily try to remember every curve and point to commit to memory for his own sake to dream sweet dreams that forthcoming night. So when they finally broke the surface for the last time he took a long and hard stare at her. She met his gaze with a just as infatuated look.

"Truth." he whispered again. She nodded. And looked over his shoulder beyond him with a sad look in her eye. Carlisle turned over to see the bustling city of London and the toxic black smoke coming from chimneys to create a toxic halo above the city. With a fleeting look from each of their eyes, Carlisle let himself be taken by the current toward that very destination.

"Truth!" he shouted but was soon engulfed in a monstrous wave of sea water. Carlisle broke the surface to only catch a glimpse of her. Esme's sat on a boulder staring off at him with her hands in her lap. Her hair blew over her shoulder and wisps covered her face.

The reminder of the burning sensation swept him over again. He gurgled and flailed his arms wildly as he struggled for oxygen and was taken under the wave once more. The force was almost unbearable as it ricochet off his body to only come back again. His limbs stretched and bent to the motion of the water as it carried him farther from her. His throat felt as if it were bleeding as he breathed heavily, paddling to no success.

"Relax." she called from her place.

His ears perked from the roar of the chaotic waters to heed her request. He needed to relax to get to the shore…alive. His panicking state would do nothing but drown him. His body shook from the vigorous cold, as he attempted to be still to lie on his back. The ice chill of the lapping waves froze his body and swallowed the gulpfuls of oxygen greedily from his lungs. He needed to focus on something to keep himself at bay.

His mind was in a turmoil of thoughts that floated in his head as his body did across the waves. His body on the waves as he dipped high and low, and relaxed to focused on the melody of her voice. His eyes closed in concentration and he finally felt the strong pulls of the ocean slowly release him to it 's surface.

It was right then when her voice led him to the demise of darkness.

**_…_**

"Mum! Mum! Lookie, lookie, a man Mum!" A high voice wailed from a distance.

"Oh, Henry! Stop that yelling this instant- oh! Oh dear, there is a man indeed." Carlisle slightly felt their heavy breaths fan across his face.

"He's so blue, Mum. Is he…dead?" Carlisle felt pudgy fingers poke his face. "He's so cold."

"Stop! Stop touching him, oh dear! Johanna! Johanna!" The woman called away.

Sandy footfalls were heard as he assumed the girl showed herself. "Yes, Mum?"

"Johanna, please go get the priest. Tell him it's exceptionally important! Life and death are battling for the boy's soul !" she whispered hurriedly. He heard her footfalls retreat to somewhere farther away.

"Henry please, go get Mum her purse would you?" He heard his retreat as well. "You'll be alright, you hear? Just stay and listen to my voice." Carlisle's body convulsed in response but didn't get to hear her any longer from the pulsing darkness that overtook his senses.

_**…**_

"Back away, back! He's my son." a man's gruff voice said coming closer and closer to him. Sand, flew and splattered on his body as his father kneeled beside him. "Give it to me. This is the only way to tell if he's been contaminated. No one touch him." A jostle of glasses awoke his urge to open his eyes to see for himself and to open his mouth to assure his father of his health. "Carlisle son, can you open your eyes?" he asked.

Carlisle responded with a slight moan that was barely audible, his throat was a dry as a desert. Something cold brushed against his lips to pry them open and soon he felt a tangy liquid ease it's away through them and down his throat. The taste made his body shudder and his eyes snap open. His throat gurgled in protest as it attempted to get up.

"Get back!" his father shouted, and the clamber of people and voices sounded.

Carlisle turned his head to everyone and stared in wonder at the crowd around him. His heavy labored breaths fueled his mind to clear thoughts for once. But what Carlisle couldn't take his eyes off of was the look of awe on his fathers face.

"Carlisle son, are you alright?" his voice was firm and strong but went in and out of his hearing range like a bad signal.

"What?" his voice was raspy as it tripped from his lips, he almost didn't recognigized it himself.

"Are you alright?" he asked again, furrowing his eyebrows. Carlisle raised a sandy hand to his left ear. A small smile tugged at the corners of his blue molten lips. _That's right, he was deaf in one ear. _The memory of that night and day came to his mind and was followed by Esme and their time together. The curious faces of the crowd around him all looked at one another in confusion at his laughter. "Yes, Father I'm alright."

"Good. Very well." he nodded and turned his torso to drop the empty glass bottle the size of his hand in a small wicker trunk that was held by the shy hands of the flushed Claira. A small cross caught his attention from it's wrapped chain around the stumpy neck of the bottle as it clinked to the side of it. _Holy water? _Her eyes met his in a second and then she casted them back down to close the golden clasp attached o the front of it.

As his fathers hand held the small of his back and Claira's arm was held between his own, his eyes veered back to see the far away figure of the woman who sat on the rock gazing at him as he did her. Wishing it was the sea that pulled him and not the hands of his family.

Carlisle quieted his thoughts to glance up at the sky with a small smile that he hoped would go unnoticed by his peers.

The color in the sky exceeded the truest of blues that was known to human kind. The clouds reflected the whipped structure of the most concentrated and delicate creams in the dessert world. But yet the sun shined a golden array like an extraterrestrial flare the burned red and protruded golden light from it's beams. Carlisle could hear the violins. The sky was so special, he had to be touched by the newly-coupling of two little things called faith and fate.

_**Ooo~ooOoo~ooO **_

Esme watched as the humans took Carlisle away. How she missed him so. The yellow haired humans took him by the hand and steered him in the direction of their foreign land with tall towers and bleak lighting. How different it was from her underwater kingdom. But if he left beyond the sand, would he be back like he promised? Her heart sank at the mere possibility of his abandonment. Her abundant faith held the same bounty of a garden that held a wondrous scent. Carlisle was a kind and neural man with an idle desire of violence, he had roses in his gun and preserved love in his arms.

Perhaps he would bestow her to that particular gift willingly. Esme shook her head to disperse the foolish thought. Her eyes trained back to the scattering mob who came to rescue him. She knew right then, that nothing more mattered but his promise. She looked down in her fisted hand and opened it gradually to prolong her own suspense like opening birthday wrapping paper slowly, but still know what lay beyond the box. Her breath hitched the same as it did when she first saw it, and then the second, and third time. She stroked the smooth metal of it's face and brought it to her lips.

"_For you, a thousand times."_

He didn't stay with her, but Esme felt the promise of tomorrow hang in the air.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: Hello to you all once again, I know it's been a while and I would also like to excuse some grammar mistakes or if something starts confusion because my Beta is unavailable to me right now so I'll need to use a very temporary one right now for the short of time being. So if you know anyone short term, I'm here to hear.(Did you see that there, a homophone use.) Also a pre reader is needed, so again post me on whomever is interested. :) **_

_**Also if you are interested please Pm me, do NOT write in in a review. I'd like to keep buissness and pleasure seperated...sometimes.(Ha he he...) Anyway tell me what you guys think of their first and formal meeting!**_


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